Pilot
by Dragonfly8716
Summary: Drake/Josh. AU future fic. Warnings: Slash, sex, language. Drake asks Josh, "Coffee, tea or me?"


Pilot

He dated enough girls back in high school to know what women like. There are still times in a strange city, when he's bored or lonely or restless and doesn't want to make a lot of effort, that he'll settle for the nearest option, even if it's the waitress with the little gap between her front teeth and the smell of grease clinging to her pushup bra. Because when you strip it down to the basics—hands and mouths and holes—sex is sex. And sex has always been his drug of choice.

But Drake also knows what he likes. What he likes is broad shoulders and a firm cock and a tight ass. What he likes is makeup-free skin and musky scents and the feel of a larger frame wrapped around his own.

He thinks he's been with every gay flight attendant and pilot flying North by Northwest Air, except for the few who are faithful to their partners. He respects them in a way he doesn't respect men who claim to be faithful to their wives, because he knows how many straight men don't count getting blown by a flight attendant as cheating, since that's not "real" sex. "Head in the head," whispers Dick, thinking he's clever, and Drake feels a little dirty squeezing into the confined space and sitting on the toilet while he sucks Dick off—_heh heh_—but not dirty enough to stop.

When the rumors about Captain Nichols start, they intrigue Drake until he places him. Dark hair, good posture, sincere smile. He asks about people's kids and goes to the bar with the flight crew but always leaves after one drink. Every time he sees Drake, he says, "San Diego, right? I hear they've got beautiful weather there." So when Judi spills the dirt about the divorce and the discreet affair with another pilot, Drake sneers, "closet case," but there's no malice in it, just acknowledgement that it's probably not worth the trouble it would take to get into the guy's pants.

The next time they have a flight together, Drake corners him as they leave the plane. "I'm trying to cut back on my drinking, so I'm not going out with the crew. Would you be willing to go to Skybucks with me?"

They talk about whether tomorrow's predicted storm will delay their flight and how lucky they are to still have jobs in this economy. Then some off-hand comment makes Josh confess that he'd always wanted to be a magician when he grew up, but he'd joined the Air Force instead. Drake talks about music—the sister who plays for the Seattle Philharmonic, the high school garage band, the way he requests flights with overnight layovers so he can go to little clubs and see bands no one's ever heard of.

Josh shows up at the last possible moment for the 9:42 from San Diego. They land behind schedule in Albuquerque, with no time to do anything but unload and reload passengers as quickly as possible, but when they finally finish the post-flight cleanup in St. Louis, Josh is waiting for him with an overnight bag in one hand and a CD clutched in the other. _Not Available in Stores_ by the Coal Monkeys. The cutesy title makes Drake think the music will be crap, but he can imagine Josh fumbling for cash at the folding table set up next to the stage. He thinks it's fucking sweet that this guy is courting him, when most men would have hit and run by now, but it also makes wonder if he's seeing something that isn't there—like that sexual harassment thing a few years ago—so Drake decides to play it safe.

When they all head out for dinner, Drake maneuvers to get the chair next to Josh. He does a decent job of ignoring the eye contact from their server, Ryan, until after the third time he bumps his knees with Josh, who says "excuse me" and scoots a little further away each time. Drake figures he's reading things wrong, so he leaves his cell phone number along with the tip.

Less than a week later Drake is on the 1:25 to Boston, and as he goes through the pre-flight routine—drink carts stocked, overhead bins empty and open, mirrors and metal sinks shiny clean—Josh pops his head in and shyly asks if Drake has any plans. Drake smiles and says he's going to the Blue Clam; there's a singer named David Hershey who's supposed to put on one hell of a show.

They leave the club after the second encore. Walking back through the clear, crisp night to the hotel, Drake finally asks about the divorce.

"Amicable," says Josh.

"You wanted different things?" asks Drake, just to make conversation.

"Actually, we both wanted the same thing."

"I hear you wanted Tom Riordan." It slips out before he thinks, because it's the question he's been wanting to ask all along.

Drake sees the angry flush climb up the back of Josh's neck. His voice is quiet but firm as he says, "I _hate_ gossip."

"Sorry. I've heard so many lies about myself it just doesn't bother me any more."

Josh gives him a sharp look.

_So Captain Nichols is smarter than he looks. _"A lot of truth too. Anything you've heard about me is probably true, but half the time it was with someone else."

"The thing with Tom was half-true. I was interested. He let me down easy. I'm willing to bet he's not the one who started the rumors."

"So you've never?"

Josh shakes his head vehemently.

"You interested in me?" Drake waits a few beats and realizes Josh isn't going to bite. "Look, I'm not going to be the love of your life, but I won't fuck and tell, and I can give you one hell of a ride."

Josh glances at him, but still doesn't say anything. Drake isn't sure why he's working so hard for so little, but he lets his hand brush against Josh's a couple times and then links fingers with him. Josh doesn't pull away.

"Forget what I just said. Let's take this slow. I'll give you a goodnight kiss in front of your hotel room. You decide whether to invite me in or slam the door in my face."

Josh says, "I don't know," and it sounds more like "persuade me."

Drake says in a wheedling voice, "Please. I promise not to slip you any tongue."

Josh laughs and Drake knows he's won.

When they finally kiss, Drake wonders how Josh manages to smell so clean after a five-hour flight and another five hours out on the town; even his skin smells like 'summer mist' or 'fresh mountain breeze.' Drake keeps his promise, but afterwards Josh stares at his lips like all he can think about is tasting them again. When Josh slips his keycard into the lock, Drake decides he's been invited in.

Josh unbuttons Drake's shirt with a studious concentration that makes Drake want to rip it off himself, but the novelty of having someone pay so much attention to him combined with the fear that Josh might still change his mind makes Drake stand patiently while Josh runs his fingertips over every inch of exposed skin. Josh's eyes go wide and dark as he unzips Drake's pants. Drake toes off his shoes, kicks the pants to one side and stands naked in front of Josh.

"My turn?" asks Drake softly, and Josh wrenches his eyes to Drake's face. Drake closes in. Their tongues slide together as he tangles one hand through Josh's hair and uses the other to unbutton, unbuckle, unzip. He has his hand on Josh's briefs when Josh says, "Wait."

Drake groans, but Josh just sinks to his knees and, with no hesitation, takes Drake in. He moves his tongue with the same single-minded concentration Drake had felt earlier, and in some ways this intense slow focus is sexier than a quick, heated fuck.

He's not sure how Josh would handle swallowing, so he tugs him back to his feet. They jerk each other off, and having his hands on someone so innocent and grateful is more of a turn-on than he'd imagined.

When they catch their breath, Drake says, "I thought you'd never—"

"I haven't, but it feels like I've been waiting to do this all my life."

They make it to the bed for round two, which is less exploratory, less one-thing-at-a-time, because Josh learns fast. Even though he isn't as careful this time, Josh's touch still has an thoroughness that makes Drake feel like he's being committed to memory. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he's with someone who's not just using him.

Drake is settled against Josh's chest, arm around his waist, satisfied and sleepy when Josh says, "Drake, I…." Then he bites his lip.

Drake sits up, scanning the room for his clothes, and doesn't bother to hide the bitterness in his voice when he says, "We both have an early flight tomorrow, and you sleep better alone."

Josh puts a hand on his arm, tugs him back as he starts to climb out of the bed. "Wait. I didn't say that."

"You didn't say anything." He'll let Josh finish, but he's not staying where he's not wanted.

"Look, I may be naïve, but even I know there are things you shouldn't say on a first date."

It takes Drake a minute, but even he's bright enough to figure this one out. "Maybe that's why no one's ever said it to me."

"Never?"

"Well, sometimes, but at pretty much the same point where other people say 'That was fucking amazing' or 'God, you're good,' so I've never really believed it."

"Then you're a virgin, too."

Drake draws his knees up to his chin because even though that's ridiculous, it makes him feel exposed, like this boy scout can read him better than all the jaded fucks who see right through him, who know exactly what he offers and just how cheap it is.

Josh sits up too, puts an arm around his shoulders and buries his face in Drake's hair, like he's trying to get so close that he doesn't have to look at Drake.

"You're right, you know. Your reputation—well, it makes me look pretty damn stupid for what I'm about to say. I want to lie in bed watching you sleep. I want to take you dancing. I want to listen to crappy bands in crappy bars, as long as I can do it with you."

"Anything else?" Drake is trying for flirty, but it comes out breathless.

"My wife got the house. I have enough seniority to request a home base anywhere in the country. I'm thinking about San Diego."

"I hear the weather's gorgeous there."

"I hear the men are too."

Drake thinks about the balls it took for Josh to fall for someone who's guaranteed to screw him over and thinks maybe, just_ maybe_, this time he won't give it away to the next pretty face that comes along.


End file.
